THE
PASSION TO BE RIGHT
Roy Key
One day
in the midst of a discussion my oldest daughter blurted out, “O,
Dad, anything’s all right with you, as long as it’s
perfect!” I haven’t the slightest remembrance of how that
discussion ended, but I think it was abruptly.
My family
has so often accused me of being a “perfectionist” that I
had to make an appointment for a spiritual check-up. One positive
result was that I was made aware of a few characteristics I think we
perfectionists need carefully to consider.
First, we
have a host of good qualities, for which I’m grateful:
super-conscientiousness, ability and willingness to work far beyond
expectation, tremendous desire to please, extraordinary
humility—until pushed too far.
Second,
these qualities, however, reveal quite a bit: insecurity, desire for
a love we’re sure we don’t deserve and are not certain we
actually have, impatience with ourselves and others who do less than
a perfect job, temptation to judge all who don’t work as long
and hard as we do, etc., etc.
Third,
it’s not just that our work must be perfect; our views must be
as well. It’s often difficult to tolerate disagreement and
downright humiliating to be caught wrong on a vital issue. Irritation
for us becomes righteous indignation, and opposition becomes a
personal attack. The world’s future rests on “the
principle” that we alone uphold.
The
faith-community which birthed and suckled us has an old slogan that
goes:
In faith unity;
In opinions liberty;
In all things love.
One day I
realized that my perfectionism as it tended toward judgmentalism
hardly squared with this passionate profession. Furthermore, a
question from the apostle Paul brought me up short and left me
speechless, “Who are you to judge the servant of another? To
his own master he stands or falls” (Ro. 14:4). He even
declared, “The whole law is fulfilled in one word. . .”
(Gal. 5:14), and, horrors, it wasn’t “perfection.”
It
was a kind of revelation to me when the thought shot through my soul:
It is not better to be right than to care. Nothing less than
“amazing grace” assured me that God loves and accepts
me-even when I’m wrong. Do you suppose that such grace is
contagious?
Maybe
it is. You and I had better press close to Jesus and find out. Yours
for a quick incubation period.—113 Wolf Road, Rogers, AR
72756